


fuck it, 3am mcdonalds

by cloverlady



Category: Smile For Me (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Angst, McDonald's, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, at ungodly hours, entirely comfort, i guess, i mean you CAN read it as romantic??? i personally don't tho, i'm not really sure what genre this falls under, they're like bros in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 02:31:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20827925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloverlady/pseuds/cloverlady
Summary: She didn't need to know the minute details of the event that'd sent Trevor into a spiralling breakdown at midnight, and she didn't need to know for how long he'd been sat in the dark crying.But Nat did know how to drive. And she did know where the nearest McDonald's was.





	fuck it, 3am mcdonalds

It was inappropriately late. It was unnervingly late. It was the late where people heard ghosts and saw UFOs landing. Nat didn't know why she was still awake. She didn't know a lot of things.

There were things she didn't _NEED_ to know, though. She didn't need to know the minute details of the event that'd sent Trevor into a spiralling breakdown at midnight, and she didn't need to know for how long he'd been sat in the dark crying.

But Nat did know how to drive. And she did know where the nearest McDonald's was.

The road was a flat, dark plane stretching endlessly in front of the car's headlights, and when the McDonald's appeared on it's horizon, it was a red-and-yellow moon rising in neon brilliance.

She coasted into the parking lot like nothing and stopped right in front.  
"M'kay," she breathed, unbuckling her seatbelt. Nat looked at Trevor, who hadn't buckled his. His face was red and hot and astringent, wet, hair stuck to the sides of his freckled cheeks. He looked back at her with nothing but a slight confusion, a hesitation born of not knowing.

It was all Nat could do to look back at him, eyebrows tilted back and a sad little smirk tugging the corners of her lips. She made a show of putting her wallet in her pocket so he knew he wouldn't be paying, and when she killed the ignition and stepped out of the car, Trevor followed.

And so they ordered and sat down.

The restaurant was occupied only by a shuffling janitor and the half-asleep midnight shift employees. They got their choice of seats, so Nat picked the best ones, off in the corner where they could have a bit of privacy.

She finished her food in the blink of an eye, but Trevor was being a snail. He meandered, shovelling the burger into his face one lonely bite at a time and eating his fries one-by-one. He refused to look at her, looking at his shoes, or out the window. That was particularly cinematic, as she watched the parking lot lights make the tears in his eyes glisten.  
Nat waited. She swung her feet against her chair, she considered fucking with the soda machine. Everything was metal and plastic and a white-noise hum, but there was comfort in that unyielding, uncaring hardness; in going out to get food under cover of night, not out of secrecy, but out of necessity.

Eventually, Trevor started looking better. He started wiping his face on his jacket sleeve. Started eating his fries two, three at a time, started looking at her. And they talked- not about his feelings or any of that sappy shit. About fun, carefree stuff that you didn't need to think too hard about, or really say much about at all.

By the time they were walking out the door, he was laughing a little.  
As they pulled back onto the road to go home, there was an unspoken sense of satisfaction between them. Comeraderie. And when Trevor looked at Nat, it was with a smile.


End file.
